All For You
by Punky Misfit
Summary: After Brennan finds Booth unconscious from what appears to be self inflicted injuries, it's up to her to prove to everyone else that Booth's wounds are from an attack, not an effort to take his life.
1. Chapter 1

The night is still. A darkness that only comes with a new moon. Everything is quiet. It's as if the air is waiting for the chaos that is about to ensue. For the lives that are about to be changed by one single event.

In the early evening hours of this night a man lies on the floor of his apartment. He's collapsed. His wrists have been cut. His body is full of drugs.

The sound of a gun shot rings clear and true out into the air.

***

Three Days Earlier

"She was mad that her husband and his girlfriend received custody of the child, so she killed him?" Brennan was sitting at a bar with Booth by her side. She'd no more posed the question before taking a sip from a bottle of beer in front of her.

"Exactly. Classic case of a domestic. I'm just glad it's over."

"What's going to happen to that child now? His father's dead. His mother is going to jail."

"Child Services will step in."

Irritated, Brennan shook her head. "People make irrational decisions."

She paused, waiting for Booth to say something in argument just as he always did. If she was the brains then he was the heart. No one else in her life could make her see things the way he did. It was a talent, one she was grateful he had.

This time he was quiet. He simply took a swig of his own beer and stared straight ahead at the wall.

The two were partners who worked for the FBI. He was an agent. She a forensic anthropologist. For years they had been working cases together. Only that day had they finished their latest involving the remains of a man found at the bottom of a lake by a scuba diver.

"Booth?"

"Hmmm?"

She finished her beer and ordered another one. "Don't you think people make foolish decisions?" Why hadn't he fought with her? In a way she wanted him to.

"Sure," he replied absent mindedly. His thoughts suddenly seemed to be turned elsewhere.

Brennan frowned. Booth had been distant for a few days. There was no rhyme or reason to it. In the middle of their case his demeanor had just changed without cause, as far as she could tell. Something was bothering him. Whatever it was, he hadn't said a word about it. She hadn't pressed him. Yet. In time if he didn't improve then somehow she'd get him to talk to her. She always could. Besides being partners they were best friends.

Before she could say anything else their other friends arrived. It had become a tradition after a case for Brennan's team at the Jeffersonian to meet the two for a night of celebration. Celebrating the end of a case. Celebrating the answers to life lost. Putting it to rest.

The remainder of the evening was lost in a blurred reality. Brennan lost herself in the fun, drinking entirely too much. Every time she glanced at Booth his eyes were on the door, as though he was waiting for somebody. His body was on high alert. Clearly she could see the muscles in his arms taught underneath his shirt. Something was indeed very wrong. She made a mental note to speak with him privately later.

As the night came to a close Brennan and Booth were the only ones left in the bar. Brennan was inebriated and aware of it. She leaned against Booth, tilting her head to look into his eyes. "Booth, I think I have a high level of ethyl alcohol in my bloodstream."

"You're drunk," he chuckled. Rising to his feet, he helped her off her bar stool. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

She was sound asleep in the passenger seat by the time Booth pulled into her driveway. He turned off the ignition. A moment passed while he sat just watching her sleep. Dozens of thoughts raced like lightning through his mind. At last he put them to rest. Tenderly he woke her to take her inside.

Later, she would swear as she was coming to she heard him whisper, "I'm sorry." Of course at the time she was in no shape to really fully comprehend what he'd said. She let him lead her inside and into her bedroom where he laid her down in bed.

"You don't have to leave," she slurred tiredly as he pulled her blankets up over her.

Booth knew she didn't mean what she was saying. It was just drunken jabber. "I can't. I'll see you in a few days, all right?"

"A few days?" She repeated, sitting up. "Where are you going?"

"Special assignment."

"Without me?"

"Just this once." He smiled, but it was forced. On the edge of her bed he sat down. Delicately he guided her back down onto her large fluffy pillows.

Given his behavior she would have preferred he stayed near by. But she let him go. Tired. All of a sudden she was so tired. "Not without me," she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.

Booth smiled truly now. Very gently he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Goodnight, Bones."

***

If she had known what was to happen, maybe she would have said something else. Something more meaningful. Maybe she would have insisted he stay the night. Maybe she would have even pulled him into her bed besides her. But of course she had no way of predicting the future. Brennan had no idea of the events that were to take place in a matter of days. She had no idea she was losing him.

It all seemed routine. Without a current case Brennan had no reason to speak with him while he was away. That didn't stop her. Every day she made excuses for reasons to call him. Booth probably had caught on to her game. He was always happy to talk to her. One topic he wouldn't discuss however was the case he was on. Anytime she asked him he remained vague. It only further extended her curiosity. What was he up to?

Then out of the blue the communication stopped. Booth stopped answering his phone. Eventually it didn't ring, instead just going straight to his voice mail. The battery had gone dead. Brennan began leaving him message after worried message. It was when his mail box filled that she kicked herself into action. Something was very wrong.

Whilst in her office in the lab she began making phone calls. Her first call was to the bureau. She called the assistant director he reported to. "It's Doctor Brennan. Are you able to tell me what special assignment Agent Booth was on?"

"Special assignment?" He echoed. "Doctor, Agent Booth took a leave of absence."

Brennan's heart hammered in her chest. She thanked him and hung up. Booth had lied to her. He _never _lied. Not to her. What was going on? First his peculiar behavior and now this?

Brennan stood up so fast that her chair flew out from underneath her. It collided with the wall. None of it made any sense to her. She had to find him. The sooner the better.

Luckily, since it was in the evening there was no one left in the lab to explain her actions to. She raced out into the parking lot to her car. There was little traffic as she sped to his apartment. The closer she got the more anxious she felt. By now she determined something had to seriously be wrong. But what? Her mind just couldn't wrap around it. Everything in her world consisted of order. Of ration. Booth wasn't that way. He'd never been. She was sure that was why she didn't understand his actions.

On the street she found a parking spot. Her car was no more in park when she jumped out and hurried to the front door. Rain was beginning to fall from the sky. A bright bolt of lightning illuminated the entrance into the lobby.

Brennan was breathing heavily by the time she reached his front door. She pounded as hard as she could on it. "Booth!" She yelled through the hard wood. Again she went to knock when the door unexpectedly crept open all by itself. Uncertainly she took a step back. Why would his door not be latched? Before stepping in she did her best to control her emotions. If only she'd brought her gun!

Deeply she exhaled as she moved across the threshold. "Booth?" Again she bellowed. Her gait was light. Cautious. In the living room what she saw nearly brought her to her knees. There on the floor lay Booth in an significant puddle of blood. Blood covered his wrists. More was oozing from a cut across his forehead. His gun laid haphazardly near his right hand. The man was completely motionless.

"Booth?!" Down onto the floor she fell besides him. Along his neck she felt for a pulse. The beat was weak. The pale skin beneath her fingers was cooling. Tears already were forming in her eyes. Using as much as a clear head she could muster, she dialed for paramedics.

Once she hung up she put her phone down onto the floor next to her. Carefully she wrapped her hands around his wrists, applying pressure in an attempt to deter some of the bleeding. Tears fell from her eyes as she kept a close eye on his chest. His breathing was sporadic; slow. Numerous seconds would pass before he'd take another breath. Booth was just barely holding on.

Paramedics came, did what they could, and transported him to the hospital. Brennan never left Booth's side. In the ambulance she clung to his hand as though it were a life line. More tears fell when she noticed how ashen his color was becoming.

In the emergency room she was forced to be separated from him. Outside the doors leading inside she stood, feeling lost. Finally she turned towards the waiting room. Numbly she was about to take a seat when she became conscious that others were gaping at her. There for the first time she saw she was covered in blood. _His _blood. It had rubbed onto her clothes. Her hands were covered. Quickly she excused herself into a nearby bathroom.

Behind her she locked the door. She turned the faucet on in the sink. Grabbing some paper towels, she first attempted to dab at her shirt and pants. For the most part all she did was smear the red stain. No matter. Brennan could call Angela and have her friend bring her a fresh outfit. But then she would have to explain the situation. That she was not looking forward to.

Next she washed her hands under the warm soapy water. While reaching for paper towels she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Under the dim fluorescent lights she appeared as though she had aged ten years. Her own image brought a sudden wave of unanticipated emotions. Booth had been on the floor dying. His pulse had been fading underneath her fingertips while she'd gripped his wrists. If she'd been any later she most likely would have found him dead. And even with the safety of the hospital she doubted his fight was far from over.

A sob rose from her belly, surprising her. The next one pushed her against the wall, bringing her slowly down into a kneeling position on the floor. Just what had happened to Booth?


	2. Chapter 2

Once Brennan called Angela for a change of clothes people began arriving. Along with Angela came Hodgins. Cam was next. Sweets last. All of his friends had the same question on their lips, what had happened? Brennan had no answers for them. The doctors were taking their sweet time on filling her in with just what was going on with her partner.

Together they all sat in a throng. Angela clung to Brennan's side. She knew without words how much her friend needed her. "What happened?" She whispered.

"I couldn't get in touch with him. I went to his apartment and-" Brennan's voice cracked. Talking was too difficult. Angela squeezed her hand. Nothing more needed to be said.

The group's hopes every time a doctor came into the room were dashed when another family was called. No one said a word to one another. Hodgins drank coffee. Cam held her head in her hands. Sweets paced like a mad man.

At long last a doctor called for them. "Seeley Booth?"

As a group they stood. The doctor seemed surprised. "All of you?"

"Yes," Brennan said, sounding insulted. The doctor shrugged and led them all into the hall.

"So what happened to him?" Brennan got straight down to business.

Again, Booth's doctor was taken aback. "You don't know?"

"No." She was losing patience.

"He attempted suicide."

"What?" Sweets said as Angela gasped.

"Oh, my God," Cam groaned, her voice thick with emotion.

The only one who didn't seem affected by the news was Brennan. Suicide had never even occurred to her. "No." She said simply.

"No?"

"You're wrong. Booth wouldn't do that."

"Doctor, with all due respect, the veins in his wrists were cut. The cut across his forehead was caused by a bullet skimming his skin. His system was riddled with a fatal over dose of pain killers."

Angela cried. "Is he alive?"

"Just barely. He's currently in a coma. We did our best to get the drugs out of his system but a lot of it had already entered his blood stream."

"So he could still die?" Sweets confirmed.

"We're taking it step by step."

The doctor didn't come out and say it. But they all saw through his words. Booth's life was still in limbo.

"Can we see him?" Cam wondered softly.

"Tomorrow. Not tonight. We're still trying to get him stabilized."

Defeated, they all agreed. Amongst themselves they conversed as the doctor hurried back to his post. The only one not speaking was Brennan. Angela gently touched her shoulder. "Sweetie? Are you okay?"

"He wouldn't do this." She repeated.

"You were just with him on a case. How was he?" Sweets inquired.

"He was… he wasn't himself. But that doesn't mean anything."

"Doctor Brennan-"

"This isn't right. Drugs? Slit wrists? A gun? It's like a badly staged script."

"Nothing worked so he kept trying."

"No! If something were wrong he would have talked to me!"

"Bren-"

"He wouldn't do this!" She knew her voice was reaching high octaves. Her ration was being thrown out the window. Booth was the only one who could do this to her. "What about his son? He loves Parker. He'd never leave him!" She said Parker, but really she meant herself.

"Sweetie, they say when people are… suicidal… they're not thinking clearly. They only think about themselves."

She growled at Angela. "Not. Booth."

"Then what do you think happened?" Cam shot back.

Brennan of course, had nothing to say. She didn't know. She only knew what things looked like. And she only had faith in her fallen friend. "I don't know. Yet."

"Brennan, you've never seen Booth when he gets really down. I've known him a long time."

"Then obviously you don't know him at all."

Angela stepped in between them. "Look, everyone's emotions are running high. Lets just head home and meet back here in the morning."

Brennan couldn't stop herself from glaring at Cam as the group disbanded. How dare she. If she knew Booth as well as she claimed then she should know he could never do such a thing.

Back in the waiting room Brennan fell down into a chair. Angela shadowed her. "Brennan?"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I can't go home. I can't sleep."

"Then come home with me. I have the guest room. I don't think I can get through this alone." Tears were shimmering in Angela's eyes.

Reluctantly Brennan agreed.

***

Her mind was still in deep shock as she crawled in between the sheets in the bed of Angela's guest room some time later. Finding Booth half dead on the floor kept replaying itself through her head. In the darkness she laid staring upwards at the ceiling. Questions posed themselves in her mind. She still refused to believe Booth had set out to harm himself. But what then had happened to him in his apartment? Why had he shut himself out from her?

She thought back to his behavior on their last assignment. Brennan was awkward at non verbal cues. When it came to reading people she was awful. That was Booth's strength. But she knew her partner. Something had been off with him. But nothing terribly worrisome. Nothing that had set off warning signs. Was there something she'd missed?

No. But then again she recalled his behavior the last night she'd seen him. Booth had been on edge. There wasn't a moment all night in which she'd seen him relax. In the car his hushed "I'm sorry" came back to her. Before he'd left her in her bed he'd planted that gentle kiss on her forehead. It wasn't like he wasn't affectionate. Looking back at that moment however she realized he had known something was going to happen. Something that prompted that sort of goodbye.

"Sweetie? Are you still awake?"

Brennan pushed herself up in bed and turned her light on. "Yes."

"Can't sleep either?" Angela sat down on the end of her bed. "I can't stop thinking, you know? I know you don't think he did it."

Brennan thought about how he had lied to her about his whereabouts. "No. But I can understand how you all think he did."

"You have faith."

"No. I don't believe in faith."

"You have faith in _him._"

Brennan swallowed a lump in her throat. "But I can't explain what happened. Regardless of what anyone thinks, he was obviously in some sort of trouble. Why'd he lie to me? Why didn't he just talk to me?"

Seeing her plight Angela hugged her. "I don't know."

The strong reserve Brennan had been carrying in front of her friends slipped. She wept in Angela's arms. "He could die, Ange."

"I know."

"I need to know what happened."

"It won't bring him back."

"I know. But I need to know."

***

_Booth paced restlessly around his apartment. He inhaled deep, uneasy breaths. Why hadn't the pills begun working yet? Someone was going to find him, stop him, if something didn't happen soon. Desperation flowed through his body._

_His cell phone rang, startling him. Booth was trembling as he paused to check it. Bones. His Bones. Did she know? Had she figured it out?_

_He stared at the display for an extended moment before choosing to hit the "ignore" button. Booth couldn't talk to her. Bones didn't understand. She never would. His partner was far too sensible for that._

_The pills were taking too long. He let his cell phone drop from his hand onto the floor. Another idea suddenly struck him. At once he headed into the bathroom to look for something sharp._

_***_

Brennan woke up biting back a scream. She turned her light on and ran her hands over her face. No. That didn't occur. It never did. Her mind was just struggling to come to terms with what had happened.

Against her pillow she replaced her head. One emotion from the dream stuck out clearly to her. Booth hadn't talked to her; feeling she wouldn't understand. Had he really felt that way in person?

The thought kept her up the rest of the night.

***

The following morning the two women were at the hospital the moment visiting hours began. Booth had been stationed in the Intensive Care Unit. They stood outside the entrance to his cubicle. None of their friends had yet to arrive. Brennan was glad. She wanted her time alone with him first.

Angela appeared to steel herself. "You ready?"

"Yes. Um," Brennan stopped her before she went in. "Can I go in first?"

It made sense to her. Her friend could swear it untrue up and down but Angela knew Brennan was in love with Booth. "Yeah. Go ahead."

Brennan's heart traveled up to her throat as she stepped behind the Plexiglas wall. She floated, or so it felt, to his bedside. Nothing felt real. It was as if they all were in some sort of bizarre dream. They weren't at the hospital. Booth couldn't have hurt himself.

Her eyes didn't lift from the floor. She had a hard time looking at him. In the end she had to force herself. Seeing him drove a fresh stab of pain through her heart. Booth didn't look any better than he had in his apartment. The only difference was now the blood that had bathed his body had been cleaned away. He was still as white as a ghost. The wound on his forehead was bruised and swollen. Bandages covered both his wrists. A ventilator mask covered both his nose and mouth, assisting with the breathing he was having too much difficultly trying to do on his own.

Brennan bent over him. She held his hand, being careful of not touching his wrist. He breathed while she watched, remaining mum. Too many thoughts, emotions, were taking over her thought process. Finally, she just whispered one word. "Booth."

If he heard her, he gave no indication. Brennan spoke directly into his ear. "I know you didn't do this to yourself. You wouldn't. You're too strong for that. But no one else believes us. You have to give me something to go on. Something to convince everyone else."

His fingers wiggled in her hand. Not large movements; small enough to make one think they'd imagined it. Brennan gasped. Had that really just happened? Or had she really imagined it? "Booth."

His fist tightened again. Laughing with tears streaming down her face, she kissed his cheek. Booth twitched again, almost impatiently. Almost as if he wanted her to see something…

Brennan let go of his hand. His wrist. He _had _to be trying to tell her something regarding his wrist. Before acting she surveyed everything around her, making sure no doctor could see what she was about to do. Carefully she peeled back the gauze bandage supporting his wrist. The stitched wound made her feel like she wanted to vomit. She forced those feelings aside as she inspected him thoroughly.

There, on the dorsal part of his wrist were bruises. Bruises that were shaped like finger pads. Brennan measured up her own fingers against the marks. There was no doubt in her mind about it. Someone had been _holding _his wrist while he had been struggling. A check on his other wrist showed her similar marks.

"Someone did this to you," she moaned. But why? Why go through all the trouble to make it look like a suicide?

"Brennan!" Angela suddenly hissed. She'd come to stand in the entrance. "What are you doing?"

"I told you he didn't do this! Look!"

Angela cringed. "I really don't want to see his cut wrists."

"There's bruises. Someone was holding his wrists."

"You were."

"No. I was holding them like this," she demonstrated her hold. Against his wound she held her palm, covering the frontal part of his wrist with her fingers. "The bruises are shaped like this." She switched positions, her palm against his wrist bone while her fingers fell almost in perfect form with the bruises by his veins.

"Don't you think the doctors could have done it while they were treating him?"

"No. He showed me."

Angela looked at her like she was insane. "Sweetie, you're under a lot of stress right now."

"No! Watch." Brennan replaced the bandages over his skin. She poke directly into his ear while holding his hand. "Booth."

This time he did nothing. Brennan's heart broke. "No. Ange. He was applying pressure to my phalanges."

"I think you need to lay down."

"I need to find out who did this to him." She strode angrily past Angela.

"What good would it do if you did?"

Nothing. If Booth died knowing who hurt him wouldn't be of any help. But Brennan had to do _something. _She couldn't just sit by and idly watch Booth.

Angela sighed. There was no stopping her. The woman was relentless. "Where are you going?"

"His apartment." There were clues. And she would find them.


	3. Chapter 3

_Brennan's shoes clicked as she paced the marble floor of the hotel lobby. People bustled by her as she waited impatiently. Where was Booth? He'd agreed to meet her in the lobby first thing in the morning. It was normal for him to be a little late. But it was extremely odd for him to be _very _late, as he currently was._

_She was about to give up and call him when she glimpsed the sight of a green jacket through the hotel's set of glass doors. Brennan put her phone away. She pushed on through. Sure enough, Booth was standing just underneath the loading awning. His back was to her. It seemed as though he was suspiciously eyeing a hotel van unloading suitcases._

_She didn't follow his gaze. His stance meant nothing to her. Annoyance was resulting in stubbornness. "Booth. I thought we agreed to meet inside?"_

_Something flashed across his face as he turned to her. It happened so fast that Brennan never caught it. Booth's eyes had been narrowed; his brow furrowed. Upon seeing her the expression was quick to fade. "Hey Bones. Sorry."_

_***_

Brennan stood just outside the door leading into Booth's apartment. Before going in she was taking a moment for herself. Was she ready for this? She hadn't been back since she'd found her fallen partner. A mixture of emotions was fighting a war in her mind. Finally, she inserted her key in the lock and pushed inside. Booth was counting on her. If his actions were that of a suicide attempt (which she still didn't believe) then she'd already let him down once. Maybe she'd let him down regardless. Whatever had happened in his apartment she should have seen coming.

Behind her she shut the door. All around she was enveloped by his warm scent. It was comforting, putting her at ease immediately. Lightly she retraced her steps. Brennan knew the police had done an investigation after Booth had been carted off to the hospital. She also knew they'd only done a half assed job. All indicators pointed to suicide. Besides, technically there was no dead body. They had real crimes to worry about then that of a suicidal fed.

It was an advantage for Brennan. Their careless sweep meant more clues were likely left for her.

In the living room she stopped dead. Booth's blood was still smeared all over the floor. The sick feeling came back to her all over again. She couldn't bring herself to fully look at the stain. Next to it the floor appeared to be warped. Brennan knelt down to take a closer inspection.

The hard wood of his floor had been dented. Splinters pointed up in the air in different directions. Brennan knew the sight of a bullet ricochet when she saw one. Judging by the angle, it looked as though the gun had been fired at point blank range inches above the floor.

This finding also didn't make any sense to her. If Booth had indeed been intending to shoot himself, why do it on the floor? And how would he have missed? The man was a sniper, for God's sake. Surely he could find his own head! Brennan shook her head. It didn't add up. She stepped by it and headed into his kitchen.

Nothing looked out of place. All his things were neatly put away. A stack of bills sat on his kitchen table. Casually she searched through them. Utilities. Rent. Credit card statements. But then she came across a completely blank letter sized envelope. The seal hadn't been closed. Dropping the bills, she gently opened the unmarked letter.

She skimmed the page before going into shock and dropping it onto the table. It was a suicide letter. Booth's suicide letter. Brennan inhaled sharply, blinking furiously against the tears blurring her vision. No. It wasn't true, damn it! Not Booth. Not _her _Booth. "He wouldn't give up," she said out loud to the piece of paper.

But there the proof was, right in front of her.

She sank down into one of his kitchen chairs, fighting herself against losing her resolve. Tears at last slipped down her flawless cheeks as she took a hold of the letter. Hard as it was, she needed to know what he had to say.

By looking at the first word alone she knew the letter was a fake. The note was addressed to her. _Brennan, _was scrawled across the top. Booth _never _called her anything other than Bones. Occasionally Temperance, but even that had only been a few times. No. The only time he ever called her Brennan was when he was introducing her to someone.

Brennan folded the letter and put it neatly in her pocket.

***

Some time later Brennan had returned to her lab seeking solace. From Booth's apartment she'd brought the letter with her to analyze. Over and over again she read it, each time growing more doubtful that he'd written it himself. The hand writing didn't match. The words written didn't sound like his at all. Booth hadn't written that letter. But someone had. Someone who knew her; of their relationship.

Someone was after Brennan.

She sat back in her chair contemplating things over. Slowly she began to see the subtle hints Booth had been unable to cover successfully that something was wrong. Or maybe he had, since she hadn't noticed anything amiss until now. When his behavior had started changing he'd been distant, yet almost possessive. Out in the field he'd stood to her closer than usual. He'd barely let her out of his sight. His body was never relaxed. Why hadn't she noticed this before?

Again she revisited her memory of the last night they'd been together. Booth had never fully turned his attention away from the door. Not once. Booth wore many different hats. Father. FBI Agent. That night he'd been in sniper mode.

Booth had known. He'd been silently protecting her.

Brennan was still sitting, lost in thought and emotion when Angela found her some time later. The other woman seemed surprised to see her. "Sweetie?" One look at her face told her something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"Booth's in the hospital because of me."

"What?" Angela didn't understand.

Brennan held out the letter for her. Angela took it, reading it. She found herself blinking back her own set of tears. "He really did intend to hurt himself."

"No. Don't you see? That's not Booth's writing."

"Are you sure? Cause it sure as hell looks like it."

"He wrote it to Brennan."

"That's you…"

"He calls me Bones. You know that. He wouldn't say that."

Angela folded the letter back into thirds. She put it on Brennan's desk. "Look, sweetie, I know how bad you don't want to think Booth tried to hurt himself. I don't, either. But-"

Brennan cut her off. "Someone's after me."

"What?"

"Someone's after me. They're using him to get to me." Her gaze fell down to the floor. "It's all my fault."

"You're not making any sense."

"Remember I said he wasn't acting like himself? I thought back, really thought back, to the case." She told Angela of all she had determined, including the evidence she had found in his apartment. "He knew someone is trying to hurt me. He went looking for a fight. And now he's dying because of me."

Angela still didn't look completely convinced. "Why would he do that? Why wouldn't he just tell you?"

"Because he didn't want me to worry." _Because he loves me, and now he's paying for it._

"What about the pills? No one could make him swallow pills."

"He could have been injected. We should look for a needle mark."

Angela inhaled, breathing out slowly. She was beginning to come around. "Okay. But why make it look like a suicide?"

"To get him out of the way to get to me without drawing too much suspicion. It's all my fault."

"Sweetie, he chose to do this."

"But he shouldn't have." Brennan dropped her voice. "I don't want to lose him."

Angela had nothing to say in response. The truth was she'd spent most of the morning with Booth at the hospital. There'd been no change in the man. The drugs his body had been inflicted with were weakening him. She overheard his doctors, and they weren't too hopeful. Of course Angela told Brennan none of this.

In fact, before she could say anything in response a loud noise went off in the lab, shaking the windows. The floor quaked. They both turned to see a bright flash of light. Fire. Shattered glass flew like confetti. Alarms went off all over the building. The door to Brennan's office shut.

"What the hell?" Angela exclaimed. Both women peered out the window. "What was that?"

Brennan couldn't believe it. "A bomb."


	4. Chapter 4

_Booth moved through his apartment like a jaguar. His trepidation should have been running high, but it wasn't. After years of being trained as a sniper and carrying out missions he'd learned to harden himself. To starve off the nervousness. To him, this wasn't any different than any other mission._

_Brennan's life was in danger. He'd gotten the phone call while they'd been in Minneapolis on their last assignment. Charlie had informed him a former employee at the Jeffersonian had been released from prison. It was a man Booth didn't know. His arrest had come before he and Brennan had started working together. His partner had caught him stealing bones and selling them as artifacts to other museums._

_The FBI had knowledge of the death threat against Brennan. That was all Booth needed. Anyone who messed with her was messing with him. He'd take down this son of a bitch himself._

_Upon arriving back in town he'd put a request in for time off. Cases would only be a distraction. With his excellent record Booth pretty much was given anything he wanted. Separating himself from Brennan was a lot harder. It'd take him a day or so to get his plan together. Luckily, she'd called him frequently, easing his mind._

_Soon it would all be over. He'd used his contacts and found out where the employee, Myers, was staying. That night he planned to carry out his mission. Hopefully, if all went well, he could just arrest the man. But if it came down to it he wouldn't think twice about killing him._

_Booth had just secured his gun in his hip holster when there was a knock on his front door. He was puzzled. Who could be at his door? Brennan? He'd shut off his phone some time ago. It was possible she'd come looking for him. His footsteps were heavy as he opened to see who was there._

_He didn't expect the unexpected. That was his biggest mistake. A large, beefy man pushed the door ajar while rushing at Booth. Myers. The man didn't have trouble taking him down. Against the floor he slammed Booth's body. Behind him someone else stepped in and shut the door._

***

"I think you need to be in Witness Protection."

"Witness Protection is for people who have witnessed a crime, hence the name."

"I think they'd make an exception in your case."

Angela and Brennan were standing aside watching helplessly as fire fighters, security, and police scoured the lab. No one had been hurt in the explosion. But everyone had become frightened. How had the bomb gotten inside? In order to get into the Jeffersonian, especially the lab, visitors were forced to undergo extensive security checks. Whomever had gotten in had known a way around the system.

Brennan was having a difficult time watching the scene play out before her. It felt like a personal attack in her own home. Equipment was damaged. It would take some time to build up what had been lost. "I want to go to the hospital," she said to Angela before she realized what she was saying.

"Why?"

"I need to see Booth."

"Are you so sure that's such a good idea right now?"

"I can't.. I need.." Brennan couldn't put any of her thoughts into words.

Angela understood. After another strike of disaster Brennan needed to see Booth, to be assured of his safety. "C'mon. I'll drive you."

Unfortunately that assurance wasn't there.

Brennan was solo walking into the hospital while Angela searched for parking out in the lot. She walked briskly, looking forward to seeing him no matter what shape he was in. It was silly, the yearning she had for him. But it was one she accepted and tried not to think too much about. Otherwise, the places her mind would go could get her into trouble.

Booth and Brennan were just partners. Friends. That's all they'd ever been. That's all they ever would be.

She entered the unit, heading straight for Booth. As she drew closer she could hear a shrill high pitched electrical whine piercing through the air. It sounded as though it was coming from Booth's cubicle. Brennan ran the last few steps.

Just as she ran in someone was running out. The person knocked into her, righted themselves, then took off down the hall. Brennan's first instinct was to turn and give chase. But not until she knew Booth was all right.

Which he wasn't. Booth's breathing was compromised. His breaths were strange, a series of short puffs before taking in a long gulping breath. The assistance he'd had helping him breathe was gone. His monitors were blank; unplugged. Even his IV had been taken out.

Brennan screamed for a doctor. "Hold on, Booth."

Doctors arrived instantly. Mere minutes passed before the situation was under control again. One by one everything that had been taken away was replaced. A breathing tube was reinserted down Booth's throat.

"How could you let this happen?" Brennan turned her rage and fear on one of his doctors. "He could have died!"

"We'll tighten security."

"Yes, you will." Her eyes penetrated straight into them until they finished, leaving her alone with Booth once again.

Angela arrived a moment later. "I couldn't find a place," her words died in her throat as she saw noticed Brennan's panic. "What happened?"

"Somehow someone got in here and unplugged all his monitors." She dropped her head, choking back tears. "Someone's trying to finish what they started."

"Oh, my God." Angela put her hands over her mouth. She collapsed down into a chair and watched Brennan with Booth.

His breathing was still off. Tried as he may he couldn't seem to pull in a full breath. Angela couldn't help but to wonder what damage had been done from the latest attack. What had being taken off life support done to him? He seemed weaker. Feeble.

Brennan wasn't thinking about the what ifs. All she could think about was him. "I'm so sorry," she under toned to him. She put a hand on his chest, caressing it. In his coma he wiggled a little underneath her touch. Slowly but surely his breathing began to ease. The rough sound in his breaths calmed down. Angela was amazed. "He's so in love with you," she blurted.

Brennan was confused. "What?"

"Did you see what just happened? He's trying for you."

"Trying what?"

"To live."

Brennan had to look away. She hid her tears, turning her back and watching Booth. Sticking out from underneath his back she noticed a piece of paper. Pulling it out, she opened it and read out loud. "Next time we won't miss."

Angela's face twisted up. "Won't miss what?"

Immediately Brennan's eyes snapped to Booth's forehead. The bullet wound. Cold panic sat like a rock in her stomach. "Next time they won't miss killing him."

"You should take this to the police. To the FBI."

Brennan was mute. If Booth died because of her she'd never forgive herself. She was having enough trouble forgiving him for being the alpha male he was. Resentment was easier for her to deal with. The fear of losing him would paralyze her if she let it. _I wish you'd told me, _she thought. _I never would have let you do this alone. _Naturally that was why he _hadn't _told her. Booth always took care of her, even if it was from a distance.

"Will you drive me back to the lab?"

"Now?"

"I need to analyze this." _I need to fall apart._

"Sweetie, it's just a paper."

"I need to go."

Angela didn't have it in her to argue. Unwillingly she agreed.

***

Hours later Brennan sat completely worn out at her desk. In front of her propped up against her computer monitor was both "Booth's" suicide letter and the threat she'd found tucked underneath him. Both were scrawled in the same handwriting. Brennan wracked her brain in an effort to think of someone who might want to harm her. She came up with no one. Not that that meant anything. After all, she worked with the FBI to put away criminals. Surely there were people she wasn't thinking of, or didn't recall.

Midnight approached. If it had been up to her she would have stayed in the lab all evening. The lab was a second home. But she knew if she intended to help Booth or herself she needed a good night's sleep. She needed a shower and a change of clothes. She needed familiar comfort her home could provide.

Gathering her things, she left the lab. Before leaving she considered asking security to walk her to her car. In the end she decided against it. Brennan had dealt with people more sinister than whoever was after her. Despite what Booth or anyone else seemed to think she could defend herself. Besides, her car was parked in the locked parking garage.

She got in the elevator and rode it down to the basement level. Her mind kept wandering back to Booth. Should she have stayed with him longer? Had Angela been right about him feeling comfort having her there? It was hard for her to believe. The ease in his breathing and her touch was most likely just coincidental. And love? Booth didn't love her as anything more than a friend. Angela wanted everything to be a love story.

The elevator doors opened. Brennan stepped out. She paused briefly to pull her long hair up into a pony tail. Then she proceeded forward. The parking garage was quiet with only the sounds of outside traffic audible. As she drew closer to her car her guard dropped. Just as she predicted, she was fine. She pushed her key into the lock in her door.

There was no noise. Brennan just felt the hot sting of electrical shock hitting her square in the back. Within seconds she passed out, slipping lifelessly to the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

_Booth couldn't get a real good look at either of his attackers. A rag soaked in chloroform was held down forcefully over his mouth and nose. That didn't stop Booth. He fought uselessly all the way until the end; until his body stopped and his eyelids drooped. Myers didn't let him slip completely under. He kept him in a state that left him slightly alert but paralyzed. _

_The other man flipped Booth onto his stomach after Myers stood. They yanked his wrists behind his back. A needle was roughly shoved into one of his veins on his left wrist. A cool sensation floated through his body. Booth tried to rally up some fear. It worried him that he was completely apathetic. This was wrong, and he knew it even if he was powerless to do anything about it._

_Booth was left alone as the drugs took control over him. He couldn't breathe. He shook. What the hell had they done to him? Neither man said anything; not to him and not to one another. This torture was strange._

_And yet it was far from over. The other man, whom in Booth's mind was referring to as "Slim," retrieved his hand cuffs from his belt. "Should we use these?"_

_Myers thought it over. "No. They'll get in the way. I'll just hold 'em."_

Hold what? _Booth wondered._

_His question was soon answered. Slim pulled a razorblade from his pocket. Myers knelt down besides Booth. He held a hot wash cloth against his wrists. After softening the skin he gripped both bones so hard Booth was sure he'd shatter them._

_Slim dropped down on the other side of them. With horror Booth came to realize what they were going to do to him. Weakly he tried again to fight. It was pointless. His fighting was as effective as kitten's. The drugs had compromised his coordination and motor skills. All he could do was to keep himself from crying out as the blade cut through his skin and veins. He could feel the blood pooling almost immediately._

_They left him laying helplessly on the floor. Myers wasn't finished yet. He tossed Booth onto his back and removed the gun from his holster. "She's going to think you killed yourself over her," he grinned a wretched smile. "She's not gonna be able to live with herself."_

_Booth had nothing left. He just stared listlessly. Already he could feel himself beginning to slip._

_Myers checked the bullets in the barrel. He motioned to Slim. "You wanna do the honors?"_

"_With pleasure." Slim was fast to grip the gun and point it at Booth's head. Booth shut his eyes. How had things gone so horribly wrong? An assembly of different thoughts flashed through his mind. _Bones, I'm sorry.

_Slim fired a shot. Just as he did a painful stomach cramp stabbed Booth's belly. His body involuntarily jerked. The bullet slid just past his forehead, missing his temple completely. The force of it still knocked him unconscious._

"_You idiot!" Myers growled at him._

"_Should I shoot him again?"_

"_No. His neighbors have probably already called the cops. He'll die from his injuries anyway. Lets just get out of here."_

_Slim wiped the gun and placed it by Booth. The two hurried from the apartment, forgetting to latch the door in their panic._

_Neither man had counted on Brennan showing up soon after. They hadn't counted on Booth being a fighter._

_***_

Brennan woke with a pain tearing through her mind. Her back was stiff and ached when she tried to move. Slow she was to open her eyes. When at last she did, she recognized nothing around her. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and her feet were sticking out awkwardly in front of her. The ankles had thick silver duct tape wrapped around them.

Where ever she was being held was dark and chilly. Light shined in through dusty windows, giving her the knowledge that it was day time. How long had she been out? The concrete floor behind her was cold. A brick wall scratched her back through the fabric of the shirt she was wearing.

Dully she realized that whomever was placing the threats against her had at last abducted her. She struggled slightly, feeling weak and knowing it was useless anyway. But she still carried faith within herself. Brennan had found her way into and out of worse situations. She'd find her way out of this one. Perhaps rage for what they had done to her partner alone would give her a way to fight. But she couldn't be sure. Not feeling the way she currently did.

"You're awake."

She craned her head sideways to the sound of a deep voice speaking to her. A man confidently strode his way across the room. Of course he was confident. He'd gotten the drop on her. But who was he? He only looked vaguely familiar.

"Good. It'll give me more enjoyment for what I'm about to do to you."

"Who are you?" Brennan's voice was strained. Her throat ached when she attempted to talk.

"Aw, you don't remember me?" His voice was taunting. "I worked at the Jeffersonian. It was _you _who discovered my little scam and put me in jail."

Scam? She squinted hard through her haze. Brian Myers. He'd been stealing random bones out of limbo and selling them as artifacts to museums who didn't seem to know or didn't care about the difference. Only back then, he'd been a scrawny toothpick. Prison had obviously beefed him up. He seemed to have muscles upon muscles. _No wonder he had no problem taking down Booth. _Booth was a strong man, but she doubted he'd had much on Myers. Particularly if he caught him by surprise.

He grinned, his teeth crooked and yellowed. "Remember me now?"

She didn't speak.

"It won't matter. You're going to die. But not before I have some fun with you, first."

"You tried to kill Booth," she croaked.

His face tightened. "Yeah. That didn't go according to plan." Myers loomed over her. From his jeans he withdrew a pocket knife. "But this will."

She could only cry out as he held the knife against her neck. Myers began undoing the fastener on her pants. Brennan knew what he was going to do to her. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Behind them a quiet noise echoed off the walls. Myers froze, his hand inches from Brennan's navel. "Chad?" He questioned. No one answered him. Confused, Myers stood up straight. He turned his back on Brennan to take a look around.

A gun fired. Myers yelled as a bullet slammed into his chest. He toppled down onto the ground next to Brennan, blood already leaking from his mouth and wound.

And there from the shadows limped out Booth. She could hear now his labored breathing from across the room. But he was there! How had he found her? When had he woken up? And judging by his appearance, how had he gotten them to let him out of the hospital?

He fell down upon his knees besides her. Seeing her hands, he pulled his keys from his belt and began unlocking her. In his other hand he still loosely held his weapon.

"Booth," she whimpered.

"I'm here."

In that moment she felt a safe warmth. But it didn't last long. Brennan heard the rushing footsteps before he did. "Booth!" She said urgently.

His reflexes seemed to still be slowed. Another man rushed at him. He knocked him hard away from her. The man then tackled Booth, pinning him down. The gun clattered against the ground and flew off into the darkness.

The man, "Slim" as Booth came to recognize, grabbed his neck and tightened his hold. Booth coughed as he struggled. His air supply was quickly running short.

Booth hadn't finished undoing Brennan's handcuffs before Slim attacked him. Watching on, she frantically searched the ground with her hands for the missing keys. If she didn't find a way out of this neither one of them would survive. Booth was no where near one hundred percent. And it was showing.

Finally he got the upper hand. He kneed Slim straight into the stomach. The two rolled as Booth climbed tiredly to his feet. Scanning the perimeter, he looked for his lost weapon.

Slim had tumbled near Brennan. The lost pocket knife came into view. He snatched it before Brennan could kick it away and rose to his feet. Booth again didn't have a chance as Slim ran full speed at him. He fell back into the wall, his knees bending as he slid down onto his rear.

Slim pushed Booth's shoulder back and rapidly swung the knife at his chest. Booth was able to thwart his effort. He held Slim's arm with his hands and pushed back. His muscles twitched as he fought.

Brennan at last found the keys and freed herself. She could barely take her eyes off the two men.

The knife was getting dangerously close to Booth's skin. He still continued to resist him, though the pain he was suffering was beginning to become hard to block out. Booth didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold on. But it didn't stop him from fighting. Where Brennan was concerned he'd fight until the very end.

However, Slim was stronger. The tip of the knife entered Booth's skin. Slim pushed harder and harder in hopes of driving it further. Booth's muscles were giving out on him. This was the end. He knew it. He'd failed.

Slim slumped simultaneously with a bullet being fired. He slipped sideways off of Booth. The knife fell onto the ground. Booth turned to see Brennan standing off to the side with his gun. She'd managed to free her ankles along with her hands. The look on her face was intense.

Her first response was to rush to Booth's aid. Before him she knelt on her knees and placed pressure against his knife wound. From what she could tell the knife hadn't gone in that deeply. But the close proximity of it being near his heart made her nervous. Seeing that his eyes were fluttering as he battled to stay conscious only heightened that fear.

She dialed for help while never relieving pressure. Booth's warm blood was slipping through her fingers. "Booth," she whispered, feeling herself getting choked up all over again.

He smiled at her.

"You're going to be okay."

He just nodded.

There were so many things she wanted to say to him. So many things she wanted to ask him. But the words got stuck in her throat. She satisfied herself by holding him in her arms until paramedics arrived for them both.


	6. Chapter 6

One week later

Brennan climbed the last stair leading up to the front door of Booth's apartment. Just outside she stopped. She raised her hand, but didn't knock. Before calling for him she decided to take a moment. Was she ready to see him? She wanted to. Maybe she even needed to. Want and need were two entirely different things. All she knew was it'd been a few days since she'd seen him, and she missed him.

A menagerie of police and paramedics had arrived at the scene to pick them up. Paramedics had worked on Myers, but the man had already been too far gone. The same went for "Slim." Police still were unsure of his involvement with Myers.

Brennan had lost track of Booth at the hospital when the two were separated. Over all, except for some cuts and bruises she was all right. His injuries were a bit more extensive. Luckily, the knife hadn't entered his chest far enough to damage his heart. He'd been kept for a few days while being treated and for monitoring. Mostly during that time he slept off his ordeal. Brennan had remained with him as much as she could. At last he too had been discharged with strict instructions to rest.

Brennan had been the one to drive him home. She hated to admit that she would have stayed with him at his apartment if he'd asked. But he hadn't, and figuring he needed some time alone, she respected that.

However she couldn't stay away any longer. Repeatedly she knocked until she heard him yell, "hold on!"

The lock clicked and the door opened hesitantly. Booth peeked out. Seeing it was her, he smiled widely and opened it all the way. "Hey, Bones. What are you doing here?"

She studied the still off white color of his features. The fatigue still showing in his eyes. He'd done this to himself for her_._ _I couldn't stay away. _"I hadn't heard from you." _I needed to see you. _"I just wanted to see how you were."

He shrugged.

She didn't like his silent answer. "Can I come in?"

Booth seemed reluctant. While he seemed like his usual self something was off. After a few seconds he moved aside and allowed her entrance. Brennan moved into his living room with him trailing. She stopped dead suddenly, her eyes drawn to a spot on the floor. The spot where she'd found him dangerously close to death.

He followed her gaze. Upon coming home he'd nearly become ill when he'd seen his own blood stain on the floor. Though he cleaned it he hadn't been able to step anywhere near it. The pit from the bullet was the only reminder of what had happened there.

"I told everyone you wouldn't try to kill yourself. Nobody believed me," Brennan murmured.

"You believed in me."

She turned her back on the spot. Now she understood his unwillingness to let her inside. Booth hadn't wanted her to see that. Again she looked him over critically. "You're tired," she stated.

He didn't deny it.

Taking his hand, she led him into his bedroom. Booth followed, blown away by her actions. His _bedroom?_

Brennan laid him down, then crawled in besides him. She laid close but not quite touching him. Booth didn't know what to do; didn't know what _she _was doing. At a loss he finally just shut his eyes. Sleep came all too easily to him these days.

Brennan still had questions for him. And she was ready for some answers. "How'd you get out of the hospital?"

"You drove me."

"No. When Myers abducted me, how did you leave the hospital?"

"I just left. I woke up to Angela looking down on me. She'd told me you were missing. I just reacted."

"Booth, you'd been in a coma."

"I know."

"How did you have the strength? How did you know where I was?"

These were both questions he'd been asking himself. At the time he hadn't really thought about it. Brennan, his Bones, was in trouble. His physical problems had been thrown to the wind. All he cared about was finding her. Saving her before it was too late.

Knowing where she was? He really didn't understand that. Something had just _told _him to head for the warehouse. It was a gut feeling he'd gone with and gotten lucky by being correct. Brennan wouldn't comprehend that. "I don't know, Bones. I don't have any answers for you."

She didn't respond. Her head drifted onto his shoulder; her cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of the t shirt he was wearing. Booth turned his head to look at her. Their gaze locked. Brennan thought of everything she'd been through with him. Everything he'd done for her. The love that no matter how hard she tried to reason or ignore it burned for him like a flame. And there in that moment she kissed him.

He kissed back. His eyes drifted shut, savoring the feeling in case he never felt it again. Her hand smoothed over his chest, resting just over his beating heart. Softly he sighed when she pulled away.

Together they laid enthralled with one another, shutting out the world around them.

The end


End file.
